At Season's End
by Skinnyboy96
Summary: A young Nord/Dunmer comes to Skyrim with his family, fleeing Imperials and the Aldmeri Dominion. Unforseen events take place, and this half-breed must continue on alone, braving frozen tundras and flying serpents. OCs are heavily present! Rated M for later chapters!


A/N: Hello people of earth! Boy have I got something for you! I have worked for about three days on and off on this. It's new, and I like to think its a rather good retelling of Skyrim. I wanted to do this with a bunch of OCs and keeping the Dragonborn human, and not seeming like he's a total badass that can take anything Tamriel has to throw at him. I'm also a heavy mod user with the PC version, so I'll be adding some of those in there, but you probably won't recognize them. This prologue actually gives my Dragonborn some back story. But enough with my ramblings. Let us begin!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters.

* * *

**Prologue: A Glimpse of the Future, Back to the Present**

Dragons circling around a snowy mountain. Just above was the pointed peak of it, standing lonely in the foggy blizzard. A lone figure was standing amid the encircling serpents, shrouded in black so as not to know who they were. Among the dragons was a pure white one, old, but still strong. Its wings were torn and some of its horns were chipped away, broken from battles, and age. The shrouded character stood in front of this eldest beast, taking in the sight of all the flying serpents overhead. It shifted, and began to change. No longer was it a humanoid, but a dragon, its size growing until it surpassed even the girth of the elder white dragon. This dragon's scales and body were not like the rest though; It was pure black, with horns and scales menacingly jutting out of its back and wings. It was endowed with red eyes, glaring at the white dragon. Underneath it, bent over on all fours in the snow, was the shrouded humanoid figure yet again. It seemed seeped of energy, and almost as if it had been defeated. The black dragon uttered only three words. "Yol. Toor. Shul!" Fire burst from the dragon's mouth, and engulfed the humanoid. From there, it moved on to the entire mountain, the entire world, and soon it engulfed even the dragons circling the world, fighting to escape it. None could. This dragon's power was too great, and destroyed everything. Nirn descended into darkness...

* * *

"Tork! Tork wake up! Come on it's time to go! The Imperials are going to catch up with us!" A girl, no older than 10 yelled. The person whom belonged to the name she spoke sat up, rubbing his eyes. He was a young man, not even 19 summers yet upon him, and thin too, but what looked like malnutrition was a lie. This young man, Tork, was quite strong for the lack of weight he carried. His eyes were a reddish brown, greyish fair skin coloring his long, slender face and body. Brown hair traveled down to right beneath his shoulders, with a single braid on the left side of the front of his head. He reached to push the hair out of his face, brushing some behind a slightly pointed ear. Clutching the pendant around his neck, and uttering a quick prayer to some deity, he rose from his bed roll and quickly packed his things. He came out from the rocky outcropping he had been slumbering under, and snuffed out the remains of a campfire from the night before. He quickly walked to meet his young sister, and two elderly people, his parents. Well, as much of a sister and parents he could consider.

Tork Twine-Heart, he was called. Half Dunmer and Half Nord. He had been found as an infant by Gornlund, his adoptive father, and Haelda, his adoptive mother. They had raised him as their own, and when his little sister Hona had come into the world (Gornlund and Haelda had been so blessed by the gods to recieve a child at such an age) they had still kept Tork close in their hearts. This was all he had. All he had ever known. Everything he had ever loved and felt, standing right in front of him. The three people he called family, who had loved him for years, and they were on the run with him.

When the Empire had banned Talos-worship, his family had kept secret the prayers to the deity they so revered. Though the Aldmeri Dominion had their ways, and they had been chased out and hunted ever since. He walked over to his family and stared up at the sky. Some clouds were in the sky, and by the way the sun rose over the east, Tork could tell it was just about 8:00. Gornlund began walking swiftly to the north and Haelda, Hona, and Tork began following him up the road.

"If we can make it to the border by nightfall, we may just outrun those Imperials and their damn Thalmor masters for at least a couple weeks."

"Gornlund! Watch your language in front of the children! Their ears are to young for this!" Haelda scolded her husband, giving him a wicked glare.

Tork cut in with an exasperated sigh. "Mother please, I have 18 summers on me. I think I've heard that often enough at my age."

"Well then you've heard it too much at this age and your father isn't going to taint your ears any more with that filth."

"All I said was 'damn'," Gornlund said with a grunt as Haelda slapped him in the ribs. "And don't hit me woman! I'm old and beat up enough!" Haelda did not relent, and smacked him in the back of the head. Gornlund turned around to glare at Haelda, but his eyes widened in fright, unusual for the seasoned homesteader. "Imperials! Run!"

As fast as they could, the four family members made a break for the nearby treeline. Hona started to fall behind, Tork snatched up her small form and began sprinting even faster to the trees. They ran deep into the forest, careful not to snap too many sticks, throwing rocks away to lure away the Imperials. Finally, Gornlund stopped. Breathing hard he looked up at the other three. Scared, but alive, the family silently looked at each other, passing thoughts, but not speaking. Eventually Gornlund spoke.

"Son, keep an eye out for the Imperials, I'll scout for a safe place with your mother and sister. I'll signal you when it's safe to follow."

"Yes, Father." Tork clambered up into a tall tree, looking for any signs of the crimson Imperial capes and flags. Gornlund walked off into the wilds, Haelda and Hona following shortly behind him. Minutes passed by, and then almost an hour, when Tork heard a deep whistling sound. That was the signal. He leaped from the tree, landing lithely on his feet. He looked like a normal farm boy, but nights when Tork couldn't sleep he had climbed up onto his house's roof, leaping from strut to strut, running the scaffolding, quietly as possible.

He ran towards the sound of his father's signal, then heard a scream. A bloodcurdling scream... It was Haelda's. Another scream followed shortly, Hona's voice this time. This only spurred him more towards the location the screams had come from. He got there to find a trail of blood leading into a cave. Pools of blood lay here and there. He though of leaving. _They might not have survived. But they might be alive. And Hona, she's the closest thing to a sibling I have. _He stepped slowly into the cave. Creeping along cautiously, he came to a main cavern, holes of light shining in through the ceiling of a cave. He looked around as best he could, trying not to step on anything that could give away his position. That was when he saw it. A troll, and in its nest, the bodies of his family. He cried out, anguish drowning out sound, adrenaline pumping through his veins, but it was in vain. He had no weapon, and the troll was careening straight towards him! He ran around the walls of the cave, trying to find something, anything to defend himself.

And then, he tripped.

The troll was upon him in a moment. It's fists trying to beat him into a pulp. He rolled this way and that, trying to avoid the pounding fists. He reached his hands behind him, grabbing something stick-like, and he stabbed it into the trolls neck as hard as he could. It broke flesh, it broke tendon, and it broke the troll. Life faded from its eyes, and its body settled on top of Tork. Mustering what strength he had left, Tork pushed the troll from its resting place, eyeing the bone that now protrude from the neck of it, and crawled over to the bodies of his family. Gornlund lay like a rag doll, his skull smashed in, fragments of bone littering the ground. Haelda lay much the same, however her death was brought by the troll's fist slamming through her chest. Hona though, she had been grabbed by the leg and thrown about... And she was still alive.

"To-k..." she choked out, blood starting to pool in her mouth. Tork swept over to her in a hurry, trying to summon the magicka to heal her. He needed focus! None would come though. Drowning on her own blood, Hona held out her hand, which Tork took. She held on to life as long as she could, willing herself to stay alive long enough to say... "Luh- yuuu..." And the her hand opened, loosing object that had been held there. A ring- his father's, silver, with a square, black onyx stone in the center, a bracelet- his mother's, made of mammoth's tusks, and last, a bead, one that Hona had kept in her hair, one that Tork had made for her, a dark blue with a hole directly in the center. Hona's hand slipped from his, and he wept, his body curling over the cruel way that they had to die.

He lay there for hours, summoning the strength to finally move. He scavenged rope and branches, and made a stretcher. Piling the bodies of his loved ones onto the branches, and dragged them to the entrance of the cave. It was dark by the time he exited the cave. A rustle, a snap of a twig, and a muffle. Tork looked around, heard footsteps behind him, turned, and met with the club of an Imperial. All went black.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter guys! Next time we'll deviate from Tork and get on to one of the OCs! Please review! I would love feedback!


End file.
